


Home is wherever I'm with you.

by smartforholmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Greg Lestrade, Crying Mycroft Holmes, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, M/M, Mystrade Monday Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartforholmes/pseuds/smartforholmes
Summary: Greg and Mycroft's life after he was diagnosed with clinical depression.Based on Mystrade Monday prompt #15 “I just really miss talking to you”.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Home is wherever I'm with you.

**Author's Note:**

> Re-uploaded after being taken down.

The news hit them like a bus at full speed. Not longer than a month had passed since the events in Sherrinford when Mycroft's therapist called them urgently, arguing a rather serious discussion on his office. Once there, he dropped the bomb on the confused couple, earning an endless and helpless silence; 3 words that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

**_Major Depressive Disorder._ **

Predictable, but yet disturbing. Mycroft Holmes had never been one to show weakness, more so, being diagnosed with such severe mental health disorder(s). Perhaps he had been susceptible for long and stressful periods, however, not even in his lowest time the thought of being a depressed person crossed his outstanding mind. Never in a million years.

That's why, on the back seat of his Rolls-Royce Wraith Black Badge, even with the private screen set, he couldn't dare to look at his lover's eyes; disappointment and annoyance on his eyes would find, he thought. Gregory, on his side, grew worried every passing second Mycroft stared lost at his shaking hands, swallowing compulsively.

Respectful as always, the recently promoted Detective Chief Inspector, gave him space, waiting until they arrived at their home to consider appropriate approaching his partner. That didn't prevent him from slowly finding his way to Mycroft's trembling hand though, just lay his hand on top of his, caressing with his thumb the rarely protruding veins. Mycroft could only accept small comfort.

Once inside the safety of their home, Gregory approached the younger man, grabbing his hand and attracting him towards his body.

“Sweetheart,” He started, tempting the terrain. “Are you okay?” Finally asked, holding Mycroft's hands between his, stroking the cold skin.

Mycroft looked away, avoiding the always worrying glance of his boyfriend; avoiding the severe urge to cry. “I’m fine,” Holmes lied, feeling himself growing tense under the gentle hold of Gregory. “Just fine.”

Lestrade remained there, holding him steady as the strength and bravery Mycroft showed to shield his emotional and recently scattered persona crumbled, showing several tears falling after the other in a cascade.

It didn't take the auburn long to finally collapse on his lover's strong arms, his knees giving up whilst sobs wracked his body. Mycroft soon felt Gregory's hands on his hair and back respectively; stroking, caressing, and rubbing comforting circles to soothe him, no matter how useless in the back of his mind Mycroft thought it was.

“We’ll be okay,” Greg said between his comforting speech, his hand on Mycroft's neck. “We’ll get through this together.”

And Mycroft believed him.

❆

Both of them knew it was a matter of time for antidepressants to join the game, so Mycroft had to accept the several boxes Anthea delivered on his desk that cold morning.

“They were sent by Dr. Kuczynski, Mr. Holmes,” Anthea informed with the exact tone as ever, looking down at her phone. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

Mycroft shrugged, feeling irritated and obnubilated all of the sudden, but denied the offer regardless. “You can show your way out,”

As she excused herself from the room, the PA acknowledged a hint of annoyance and confusion on his boss's voice, so she stopped on her tracks almost instantly. “Sir?”

When Anthea tempted to look up from her phone and look at Mycroft's face, she knew.

“I specifically said to show your way out, Anthea, did I not made myself clear?” Mycroft's head was now resting on his hands, shoulders trembling, and slightly slurred words.

Typing a quick text to the receptionist to reach Greg as soon as possible, Anthea strode next to the government official's side, keeping her distance. “Talk to me, Mycroft, what is happening?”

The named could only shake his head in disbelief, grasping the ginger locks between his hands and tugging hard, gasping at the instant pain.

Anthea faltered but ultimately laid her hand on Mycroft's shoulder, making an effort to show support and assurance on what seemed like a panic attack.

The few moments of peace they had were intruded by a disgruntled shout that soon Anthea figured came from her boss's mouth, heavy tears falling from his closed eyes. He then pulled his knees up to his chest, gripping his legs in the process.

“It’s okay, Mycroft, Gregory is on his way, take deep breaths for me.” The woman tried to reason with the miserable man, who was now embracing himself on an awkward angle, trying to protect himself from any threat.

Thankfully, the doors burst open, unfolding a breathless and concerned Greg Lestrade that fled to his lover's side at the alarming sight of his darling in dismay.

“My? Mycroft, I'm here love, it's me,” Gregory whispered, collecting Mycroft in his arms while Anthea shifted to the side. “It’s your Gregory, it's just me.”

Mycroft proceeded to clasp onto Lestrade's clothes, sobbing openly. The DCI then chose to carry him to the sofa, where he could hold him more satisfactorily, stroking his hair and rocking him slowly. Anthea handed him a bottle of water, encouraging Mycroft to take small sips once his episode dissipated.

Several minutes had passed by when Greg felt the precise moment Mycroft's body went limp in his arms, his head rolling to his chest and even breathing.

Looking right at Anthea, Gregory realized the words that were going to leave her mouth.

“I will speak with the Chief Superintendent to give you time off, clear Mycroft's schedule for the same period as well,” Anthea whispered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping male. “All he needs now is you, Gregory, so be,”

❆

Mycroft found himself more weakened as the months started passing. The antidepressants did their job splendidly, however, there were days where Mycroft could hardly leave the bed to do his necessities; where all he wanted to do was stay on Greg's chest, if not crying, then listening to his heart beating to keep him grounded; where he struggled to wake up; where he struggled to eat; where he wondered if everyone would be better off if he just died.

Nevertheless, Greg stayed by his side. Cuddling him, feeding him biscuits, and holding his cup up for him to sip when he had no strength to do normal things. He even defended him when Sherlock went to their home to mock him, believing his diagnosis was a façade to avoid the weekly visits to Sherrinford. The younger Holmes eventually left with a split lip and his ego destroyed by a furious Gregory.

On the neutral days, Gregory assisted him to the balcony, reclining beside him, carrying two mugs with hot chocolate as they stared at the night sky and the lighting from the city. Most of the time, Mycroft fell asleep after some time, warmed by his lover's presence and hot beverage; waking up in his bed, safeguarded on Gregory's arms.

Still, when the break from reality came to an end, at the slightest hint of panic, or feeling of hopelessness, Mycroft found himself on a car on his way to NSY, where he could be attained immediately by Gregory.

The first time it happened, it caught Greg by surprise, confused at Mycroft sitting anxiously on the sofa in front of his desk.

“What are you doing here?” He remembered asking, as he walked to Mycroft's side and sat next to him. “Did something happened?”

The ginger shook his head and pressed himself to his partner's side impatiently. “No, it's just...” He endeavored, trying to find the perfect excuse. “I just really miss talking to you.”

Gregory laughed but stopped when he felt Mycroft flinch at the sound. “What is it really, my sunshine? Hm?” The DCI asked in a soft tone, holding Mycroft closer. “Do you want to talk about it or—?"

“Just, hold me? Please?” Mycroft interrupted and Gregory nodded, fulfilling his lover's request. That's when he knew he had become, at least officially, Mycroft Holmes’ shelter.

❆

A year and a half after the diagnosis, Mycroft was seating beside Greg, watching the Ballroom filling up, wonderful smiles on their relaxed factions. His hand found Greg's and brought it to his lips to kiss it gently.

“We have come so far,” Gregory whispered, leaning so he could press a proper kiss to his husband's lips. “ _You_ have come so far, my love."

Mycroft chuckled, and rested his head on his favourite spot on Gregory's shoulder, looking at Sherlock smiling at him as he danced with John.

Looking up for a brief second, Mycroft murmured staring directly at Greg's deep brown eyes. “It was for you, all of this is because of you, my dear,” Tears forming in his eyes, Mycroft kissed him again, slowly this time.

Forgetting about his disorder, about the difficulties and the world in general, Mycroft lost himself in the kiss, focusing only on the arms that held him. The arms, that no matter the circumstances, will be there for him to catch him if he fell, to guard him when he didn't felt like he belonged.

**_“Home is wherever I'm with you.”_ **

**Author's Note:**

> If you live in the United States, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (Lifeline) at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), or text the Crisis Text Line (text HELLO to 741741). Both services are free and available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
> 
> If you reside in the UK: CALM (Nationwide) can be reached at 0800 58 58 58 (available every day from 5PM to midnight). CALM (London) can be reached at 0808 802 58 58 (available every day from 5PM to midnight).
> 
> Please, seek for help if you develop symptoms related to a depressive disorder or feel suicidal. You are loved, and you matter.


End file.
